To Catch a Rabbit (24 page)

‘I suppose Lizzie Morrison got the praise for finding out Stella was Burger’s sister too.’

‘Why should she?’ Carly asked. ‘I’m the one who told Rick Houghton to explore that murky little avenue. Don’t look at me like that, I need all the Brownie points I can get at the moment. ’

‘How’s she getting on?’

‘Golden girl?’

‘Don’t.’

‘Touchy! Seems to be keeping her nose clean. She’s been sorting out the forensic statement for Philip Holroyd’s inquest tomorrow.’

Sean looked up. ‘Yeah? I’ve got to give evidence, about finding the caravan.’

‘Hey, I might come along for a laugh, heckle you from the cheap seats.’

‘I thought you were trying to keep a low profile.’

‘It’s a public court isn’t it? And if I’m not on duty, I can go where I like.’

The door opened and the wind blew Maureen and another gust of rain inside.

‘Get us a cup of tea, love. I had to walk up from the number twenty bus stop. Hiya Carly!’ She dropped two large carrier bags of shopping and limped towards the stairs. ‘I’m going to get something dry on, then I’m putting these shoes in the bin. Less use than my stocking feet, they were.’

Carly started to empty the shopping, drying the packets and tins that had got wet and arranging them on the worktop.

‘Lend us a hand, I don’t know where any of this goes.’

But Sean was miles away, chewing over what he would say to Lizzie when he saw her. He was surprised she hadn’t been in touch about tomorrow. He’d got his statement ready. He would need to check with the coroner whether he should mention the boy by name or not. What had they talked about at the quarry? Had he got it all written down? There was something that Declan was telling him just before they saw the body. Something he’d never followed up.

‘Hang on a minute.’ An arc of water sprayed off his coat as he grabbed it off the hook. ‘I need to talk to someone.’

‘You’re not going back out in this. You’re a bloody headcase!’

He didn’t hear any more. The door slammed shut behind him and he was down the side of house and away along the pavement. The back of his jacket was cold against his neck and water ran inside his shirt.

The estate was empty. Even the dogs had taken cover. The peak of his hat kept his eyes dry, but the rain ran down his nose and over his lips like tears. He found the flats where he’d watched the bull terrier tearing open the bin liner. The back door to the block wasn’t locked and he went inside. He stood for a moment, trying to get accustomed to the darkness at the bottom of a piss-scented stairwell.

Everything was back to front in these maisonettes, bedrooms downstairs and living rooms up. The door, when he reached it, looked as if the last person to knock on it had done so with an axe.

‘Yeah?’ A woman in her twenties held it open two inches, making sure he couldn’t see past her.

‘Is Declan about?’ He was about to add that the boy wasn’t in any trouble, when she shut the door and shouted.

‘Declan you little bastard, there’s a copper at the door! If you’ve done owt, I’ll batter you!’ The she opened the door again. ‘Don’t mind me, I wouldn’t lay a finger on him.’

A wet brown nose pushed past her knees and Ruby came out, sniffing round his feet, wagging her tail.

‘She likes you. Funny that.’

The boy followed the dog, ducking under his mother’s sharp elbow to reach the landing. He was wearing a thin hoody and carrying the dog’s rope.

‘You wanna talk? We’ll take the dog out. See yer later.’

Sean was lost for words. The boy seemed to have aged forty years and picked up an American accent in the process. God knows what he’d been watching.

‘You sure?’ Sean realised he wasn’t going to be invited in, but even so, it was chucking it down out there. Declan was already halfway down the stairs.

They took the road that cut down through the centre of the estate. Water was flowing down the gutters in two rivers. There’d be flooding somewhere tonight.

‘Where are we going?’ Sean was surprised by Declan’s pace. He didn’t look well-nourished enough to be walking so fast. Maybe it was the relief of getting out of the flat.

‘Somewhere we can talk,’ the boy said out of the side of his mouth. He was turning into a young Sean Connery now.

They crossed the road to the children’s playground. The swings were twisted up around the top bar. Little buggers. He and Carly would have to get them down later, tick a box on ‘positive service to the community’. Tick bloody tick. He had an idea where they were headed and he was right. The dead end, where they’d chased Lee Stubbs. Declan went to the second garage and leaned against it. A catch gave way and the up-and-over door creaked open to reveal an empty space. Empty except for a couple of upturned crates and some rubbish in a corner. Declan fished a lighter out of his pocket. He lit a candle in a bottle and stood it on the floor between the two crates. Sean watched the dog sniff around the edges of the garage.

‘You can shut the door now.’

Sean did as he was told, trying to put aside all the nagging worries about how many different guidelines he was breaking. Declan sat and waved at the other crate, every inch the little gangster in his hideout.

‘What’s this about then, copper?’

‘Lights. Flickering lights. When we found…you found, the caravan in the quarry and we were up there, you said Brandon had been scared by a ghost. You never finished telling me, it wasn’t a ghost was it?’

Declan shrugged. ‘No. More likely a zombie. People change after they’re dead.’

‘I think you saw someone real, alive. Declan, this is important.’

‘Me and Brandon went up to the woods to see if we could get anything to burn on the bonfire.’

‘So this would have been what, the fourth? The day before Bonfire Night?’

‘S’pose so, yeah.’

‘Then what?’

‘It was getting dark and Brandon was getting scared because he said we might fall into the quarry. I said it was okay because I know all the safe places. Then we went back on the path and there was this caravan. All weird flickering lights in the windows.’

Sean’s hand went to his inner pocket for his notebook. Then he hesitated. The meerkats at Doncaster Central would pounce on anything that was written down. Maybe he should wait. A story about zombies wasn’t going to do anything for his credibility back at the station.

‘Go on.’

‘When we got up to it, it was proper spooky. Like a glow from inside the caravan. Brandon didn’t want to go any closer but I made him. There was a little crack in the curtain. That’s when we saw it.’

‘It?’

‘The zombie. Just sitting. Sort of like this.’ He hunched his knees up and wrapped his arms round them, staring wide-eyed at the candle.

‘What did this zombie look like?’

‘Pale. They’ve got no blood, because they’re dead. Well it was pale, like really white, and had mad, green eyes and red hair, sticking up all wild.’ Sean shivered and Ruby began to whine at the door. ‘Now d’you believe me?’

‘I believe you saw someone, but it wasn’t a zombie was it?’

‘Might have been.’

‘Did you see anything else?’

The boy frowned and stared into the candle. He licked his finger and drew it back and forth through the flame.

‘Declan?’

‘What?’ He didn’t look up.

‘Was there anything else?’

‘You got any food, mister? I’m starving.’

Sean stood up and stretched his shoulders back. The dog circled him, hopeful that they might be on the move again.

‘It’s not far down to my nan’s place and we could pick up a bag of chips on the way.’

‘All right.’

It was lucky for Sean that Declan didn’t have the suspicion of some kids, who’d accuse you of child abuse as soon as you spoke to them. The uniform helped, but it also bothered him. Declan trusted adults too easily. Half an hour later he asked Nan and Carly to stay in the room as chaperones, while the boy sat in front of the computer screen, stuffing chips into his mouth and staring at an image from the Gazette’s webpage.

‘What’s it say?’

‘It’s about another girl who was found dead. The other woman in the picture was her flatmate.’

‘And?’

‘Declan, d’you think this is the woman you saw, the one you thought was a zombie?’

Maureen looked from the screen to Sean. She opened her mouth to say something but thought better of it.

‘I think so. She’s got the eyes.’ He made a gun with his hand and shot at the screen. ‘Pyaow! Zombie hunters!’

Carly walked back up to the estate with Sean and Declan. It was on her way home. Ruby had enjoyed a cold pie in Maureen’s kitchen and trotted happily back by the boy’s side. The rain was just a fine drizzle now. Declan had a spring in his step, karate-chopping phantom zombies and chattering on about how he was going to track them down. Once they’d seen him safely through the back door of the flats, Carly turned to Sean.

‘Who was she?’

Sean shrugged.

‘Maureen recognised her, and you seemed pretty sure the boy would ID her too.’

‘It’s hardly an ID. He thinks she’s the living dead.’

‘Don’t fuck about Sean. This is a murder enquiry.’ 

A court official cleared his throat and began to read out the pathology report. Karen felt sick at hearing her brother’s remains described so graphically. A forensic examination from the scene described partial decomposition, slowed by the cool and shaded nature of the quarry. Although the caravan had tipped into the water, the body had remained dry. It appeared that the deceased had fallen or possibly been struck, or both. The nasal bones were fractured and embedded in the brain. Blood samples from a gas heater and from the floor of the caravan matched the body. Residual facial features and personal effects were deemed sufficient for initial identification, confirmed by DNA samples from hair and skin tissue on an item of clothing supplied by the widow. A number of other fingerprints were found, belonging to numerous males and one female, they had yet to be matched with any others on the system. The man’s voice was as level as a newsreader’s.

Stacey was placed under oath and asked to take the stand. She was visibly upset and her voice quavered when asked to describe the last time she saw her husband alive. Reg clenched his pipe in his pocket.

‘And did you speak to your husband during the day?’ The coroner leant towards her, his voice soft and kind.

‘No.’

‘Would you normally expect him to call?’

‘If he was going to be late.’

‘What time did you expect him back?’

‘By six, or a bit before. I was supposed to start my shift at the pub at six.’

‘I know this is very distressing for you, Mrs Holroyd, but I have to ask you, did you realise that your husband was found in a location believed to be used for the purposes of prostitution?’

The coroner looked like an owl, Karen thought, his eyes widening under grey, bushy eyebrows.

‘Yes, the police said it was.’

‘He was reported missing by his sister, not by you.’

‘Yes.’

‘Why didn’t you report him missing?’ The eyes narrowed, but the softness was still there in his voice.

‘I thought maybe he was having an affair. He’s had affairs before, it turned out. I was told that he’d run off with another woman.’

‘I see. While you are under oath, Mrs Holroyd, can I confirm that you identified your husband’s body?’

‘Yes.’ She said, quietly but clearly. ‘At the hospital.’

‘And you supplied an item of clothing for a DNA match?’

‘His jacket.’

The community support officer was called next. Karen was surprised to see Sean Denton again; he seemed to be all over this case. Denton was telling the coroner that he’d been led to the caravan by the same boy who’d found the unidentified body of a young Chinese woman on the steps of a snack bar van on the Chasebridge bypass.

‘The boy said, and I’m quoting: ‘my brother said it were another prozzie living in the caravan.’

The coroner cleared his throat and Keith Clegg patted Stacey’s arm. Johnny Mackenzie stared straight ahead, while Denton read from his notebook in hesitant tones. He looked nervous, but the coroner was almost as kind to him as he had been to Stacey.

When Johnny Mackenzie was called, Karen noticed Stacey squeeze his hand as he stood up. He was asked about a call made to his office from Mr Holroyd’s mobile phone. Mackenzie said Philip had called, sounding very low.